A Display of Pyromania
by Suicidal Mickey Mouse
Summary: There is a fire at the loft. What does this mean for the Boho Boys? MarkRoger. Rating to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: RENT and it's characters do not belong to me.

Author's notes: Well, this is just another fic, that as the title suggests, involves fire. I'm trying a new writing style type thing where at the beginning of the chapter there's a narration that sort of sets the scene and let's me set the scene without having to really talk about everything that's not necessary and it lets me say the time and date without having to conveniently mention it.

Oh, and just to clear any confusion up, when I say that it's one am on December 24th, I actually mean of that morning, not of the night of December 24th where it would end up actually being December 25th. That probably did nothing but confuse you, but I had to put it anyways because if I didn't then someone would mention it.

It's one year after the end where Mimi makes her miraculous recovery.

_Italics are the narration thingies that were mentioned above._

_December 24th, One AM, eastern standard time. We begin with Mark Cohen, asleep in his bed. He is tossing and turning in the sheets, coughing as an acrid gray smoke rises around him. It is with a particularly large cough that he falls to the floor, landing on a myriad of items, and jolting him into a state of being awake._

Mark ignored the little pain that was in his bones room falling off the bed as he started to grope for his glasses on his bedside. He was coughing at the smoke that was invading his lungs. "What the…" He squinted at his surroundings, trying to bring them into focus to no avail. His hands didn't seem any closer to find his glasses, but there was an intense heat that he was sure didn't belong because it was never warm in the loft this time of the year, and it was a this point that realization hit him. "Oh shit." The glasses were forgotten as Mark struggled to his feet. "Roger!" He shouted, starting to stumble out of his room, his arm going to his mouth as he coughed into the crook of his elbow. "Roger get your ass out of bed now!" Even without his glasses he could see the orange glow of flames against the wall he would usually project his films on. There was a crackle and roar echoing in his ears. "Roger!" He found his way to his roommates closed door, coughing violently before pounding his fist against the door. "Roger, get up now!"

"What the hell?" Roger muttered, lifting his head from the pillow as Mark opened the door, one eye lazily opened as he looked on confused.

"Up! Now!" Mark ordered, walking in grabbing Roger's arm, and trying to pull him up to little avail.

"Why?" The smoke started to reach Roger, and he coughed. "Shit, what's going on?" He sat up at Mark's insistence.

Mark coughed again. "Fire. Now come on!" Without further instruction Roger got up and started out of the room, looking around the loft and coughing more. "Roger come on!" Mark was shouting once more, but coughed again. "Let's go!" He stumbled over, grabbing Roger's arm, dragging him over to the window that led to the fire escape, where the fire was heading towards, but had yet to reach. "Go!" He yelled as he forced the window open, shoving Roger out, as they both coughed some more. "I'll be right down!"

"Where are you--."

"I'll be down!" Mark cut him off. "Just go!" He watched as Roger started down the escape, and then ducked back into the flaming building apartment. His arm went back up to his head, mouth and nose getting buried in his sweater as he started to search as Roger had been. It went with difficulty, as he didn't have his glasses and the little vision that he had without them was blurred by stinging tears coming from the smoke. The heat was bombarding his body, causing beads of sweat to appear on his face.

It was a few minutes of searching before he tripped over something on the floor that was concealed by smoke and his virtual blindness and was propelled onto his face, his head colliding with his sought after object. He coughed a bit, and once more forced himself up, before closing his hands around the neck of Roger's guitar. Mark turned around to go back to the fire escape. "Fuck." The fire was now blocking the fire escape. Somehow Mark wasn't laughing at the irony of that.

He turned around frantically for a moment, trying to wrack his brain for another plan of escape. It didn't occur to him to use the door until he saw it. Running forward, he disregarded any and all rules of fire safety, grabbing the handle and yanking it open, the momentum of which sent him pitching forward down the stairs as he started coughing again. This pattern of movement continued until he collided into the railing of the stairs, which simply crumbled under the force. And down he went with it. He didn't really think to scream or cry out as he fell, just groaned at the impact of landing on the floor, a few floors below the one that he was previously standing on.

Mark's head lolled to one side as his vision continued to swim more, an eye catching what he could only assume to be the advancing fire at one side of the space he had landed in. Then his eyes closed as he gave in to the overwhelming need for unconsciousness.

* * *

Roger coughed into his hand, looking up at the burning apartment building in a state of utter shock. His home was on fire. He couldn't believe how fast it was all happening. He had just woken up and there it was. Fire. Actually, he hadn't just woken up, Mark had woken him up. Mark had gotten him out of the fiery death trap. Mark had saved his life.

Mark…Mark was still inside. At least he hadn't gotten around to Roger. If he had come back out. There was a large crowd gathering of people watching the fire. From what he could tell quite a few of them were homeless and using the raging flames as a heat source. Not that he could blame them. Even though he had fallen asleep in his jeans and one of the few long sleeved shirts, if it weren't for the fire he would be freezing.

What he couldn't understand is why the fire department wasn't arriving. The building had about half of it covered in flames, and not everyone in the neighborhood was dirt poor. Someone had to have been able to call 911 for help, and yet, nothing was coming to help. He knew the real answer was because of the location, but was trying to ignore it, instead focusing on the idea that they might make it in time to save part of the building.

And Mark. Roger coughed as his train of thought went back to Mark. He was starting to worry more, wondering if Mark was OK. "Mark!" He shouted, starting to walk around hurriedly, looking around, trying to spot his friend. "Mark!"

He shoved his way through the crowd, looking around as the panic started to grow. "Mark!"

He continued the search as sirens in the distance started to get closer, even as the fire trucks and ambulances arrived and as a hand was placed on his shoulder. "Sir, what's wrong?"

"My friend Mark is inside." Roger began urgently, as he turned facing a paramedic. He only stopped to cough a bit. "You have to find him."

The paramedic gave him a look. "Sir were you in the building?"

"Yeah, but that's not the point. The point is my friend is in there and he needs to get out!"

"Sir, if you were in the building we need to treat you for smoke inhalation and give you an exam. If you could just come with me than--."

"I am not going anywhere until somebody can promise me that Mark is getting the hell out of that building and is going to be fine!" Roger protested with his last shout ending in a fit of coughs.

"I can promise you that your friend will be well taken care of. Now come with me."

* * *

Roger looked on as a few firefighters transferred a soot-covered bruised body onto a stretcher. There was no doubt who it was. "Mark!" He abandoned the oxygen mask he had been given and rushed forward. "Mark! Is he OK?"

The paramedic from before didn't look up as he started his work. "We don't know yet…" For a moment he said nothing, as another paramedic took Mark's vitals, and he started assessing injuries. "Let's get him to County." They started to move the stretcher into the ambulance, and the paramedic looked back to Roger. "If you put the oxygen mask back on like a good boy you can come with us."

Roger wanted to roll his eyes and send an annoyed comment at the look, but was too worried, so settled on running back and grabbing the oxygen that he had been given, and hurrying back, climbing into the rear of the ambulance.

"Sir, can you think of any medications that your friend is allergic to, or anything we should be concerned about?"

"Uh, god…" Roger ran a hand through his hair, suddenly wondering why he had never paid much attention to Mark after his rare doctor's appointments. "He might have said something about penicillin… and I think he donated blood today." Roger was pretty sure about that. It was times around the holidays that Mark would see signs begging for donations and he would feel bad for 'all that they had' and he would go donate.

"Well neither of those should be a problem."

Roger coughed a bit more. "He is gonna be OK right?"

"We'll see."

Somehow this didn't assure Roger.

OK, there is the first chapter. And I must say, if I never have to write the word cough again it will be too soon. I tried looking up synonyms, and there are just about none. But, anyways….

I need help picking a title. So please vote, do you like:

Heat of the Future's Glow

An Eternal Flame

One Teeny Tiny Spark

Or if you really wanted to we could stick with the temporary title of A Display of Pyromania.

Please vote in your reviews, and also tell me what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.

Author's Notes: Thank you reviewers. As of now, the title is going to stay as is, but if you haven't voted and would like to, the options are back a chapter.

Any medical information I have in this chapter I tried to make relatively accurate, however I do twist things around sometimes for the purpose of the fic. Such as the way that the doctor leaves them when…well…you'll see.

_Italics are the intro thingy._

_December 25th 11:27 AM, Eastern Standard Time. Zoom in on Collins, holding in his arms a large brown paper bag, filled to the brim with food and drinks and whatever other items he had chosen to bring to the loft for the Christmas party that was basically a tradition. He had been planning on getting there last night, but his bus from Connecticut, where he was holding his latest teaching endeavor, had been delayed. He walks down the street a cheerful grin on his face at the prospect of seeing his friends for the first time in six months. He had left one month after Mimi passed on at the end of the five months that came after the Christmas Eve that they had found her. _

_He comes to a stop on a corner, his eyes traveling up to a familiar building, and widening in surprise. The building was a charred skeleton ,collapsed to the ground. After staring for a moment, he takes off._

Roger turned around as the door to Mark's hospital room opened. His face was pale and haggard, and he was encountered with a desperate need for a shave. He had been sitting next to Mark's bed in the Intensive Care Unit since they had been brought in early on Christmas Eve Day, only dozing off a bit and never truly getting rest. Bloodshot eyes encountered Collins, a concerned look on his face. "Hey." His voice was much rougher than he had imagined, though he had little to eat or drink in his time at the hospital, and his throat was still raw from the smoke.

"Hey." Collins echoed, closing the door behind him. "What's going on?" He stepped forward tentatively, as though nervous to be there. He had a right to be, seeing Mark there, hooked up to some of the same machines that Angel had been. It wasn't a pleasant thought. "I went to the loft, and…it wasn't there."

Roger nodded. "There was a fire." He turned back around watching Mark again. Mark no longer had the soot covering his body. He had been intubated, and had one arm in a sling to prevent him from moving a broken collarbone. White gauze was wrapped around his other arm, and many other places, protecting the burns Mark had acquired in the fire. These were the visual changes that could easily be seen when looking at Mark, lying in a bed that held him in a near seated position.

"I caught that part." Tom came farther into the room, around to the other side of the bed, where there was another chair. "What happened with Mark? He got trapped?"

Roger didn't speak for a minute, traveling back to the night and thinking about what had happened, trying to organize the events in his mind. "He got me out, and then he went back in. They said they found him on the third floor. They think that the stairs collapsed on him or something." He paused taking a breath. "He's got some burns…the doctor said what degree they were, but I don't remember. He broke his collarbone, and they said something about a spinal fracture…" He trailed off, not knowing what else could be said. His attention span wasn't at its best in any case. He was focused on the roommate and friend lying in front of him.

Collins followed the gaze. "Has he been up?"

"Not yet. They might have said something about a coma."

Collins knew it would be dumb to mention anything about the loft or to ask if he was OK. He could tell that Roger was going to be fine physically, but watching him, his mental status was a bit more questionable. He had a pretty fair guess that Maureen and Joanne knew nothing about this yet; Mark and Roger weren't as close with the two. They met up regularly, but not nearly as often as they had a few years ago. He knew that Roger wouldn't have taken his AZT because he wouldn't have any to take. He knew that later when he had his, he would be giving some to Roger, and made a mental note to pick up an extra prescription later.

All in all, after those few sentences there was little else to say on the matter. Collins considered explaining how that after he found the burned building he had thought to call the hospitals and that that was how he found them, yet reconsidered after the thought, deciding that the information didn't really matter to Roger.

So they didn't say anything, just focused on the frail filmmaker in front of them, listening for the constant beep that notified them of his existence. It stayed this way until the door opened once more, a young nurse entering, a small smile on her face. "How's the patient this morning?" She didn't expect an answer, and just went to Mark's bed, grabbing his chart and starting to examine his vitals. She was folding up the chart again when Roger spoke.

"Mark? You're awake."

Sure enough Mark's eyes were open, darting in every direction, trying to ascertain where he was. It had barely been a few seconds before Mark started coughing at the intrusion in his throat.

"Sir, just relax, and don't try to talk yet." The nurse began. "There's a tube down your throat to help you breathe. I'll go get the doctor so he can remove it." With this last reassurance she exited the room quickly.

Roger looked down at Mark, happy that his roommate was awake, but with more emotions flooding forward. "Do you have any idea how stupid you were?" He couldn't say how scared he had been, or how relieved he was now that Mark was awake.

"I'll go call Joanne and Maureen." Collins volunteered, catching on that it might be good for Roger to let things out with Mark. He stood and started to exit, but placed a hand on Roger's shoulder, opening his mouth to say something, but thinking better of it, he closed his mouth and left.

"Why did you go back in there?" Roger asked, knowing he couldn't get a response. "Was it for your camera Mark? Your film?" It made the most sense to Roger. The one thing that he never saw Mark without had to be what Mark would go back for. "Mark that stuff…" He trailed off, realizing that he was going to sound so emotional and so unlike him.

Luckily for him, the nurse returned at this moment, with the doctor. "Welcome back Mr. Cohen." The doctor greeted, he too had a smile on his face, as he started to detach the tube. "If you could cough please, I'll remove this." Mark did as told, and the tube was pulled out of his throat, causing him to cough a bit more. The doctor handed him a cup filled with ice chips. "These should help with that."

They went through some basic questions and short things, Mark answering in a voice that was barely above a hoarse whisper. It was after this that the doctor closed his chart. "Well, I'll leave you for a few minutes, but then you'll have to go for a few tests." The doctor left the room.

Roger opened his mouth to speak but Mark cut him off before he could even get a word out. "I went back in for your guitar." He swallowed some of the melted ice, wincing as it occurred.

"What?" Roger's semi-hard expression faded in a sudden confusion.

"I went back in to get your guitar." Mark repeated, not looking thrilled at speaking again. "Not my camera."

Roger was left in a bit of shock at the concept. Mark was his friend, his brother even, but he didn't think that Mark really cared that much. Lately every AZT reminder had been sort of tired and half-hearted as though Mark didn't care as much anymore. This was a big reminder for Roger that it was possible Mark still did.

Collins reentered the room not knowing he was interrupting. "Maureen and Joanne are on their way." He informed. "And if I'm not mistaken, I saw our favorite landlord coming up."

* * *

Roger looked over at Benny, who was in the entry way of the room, too tired to be angry and glare at his enemy. "What do you want?" Even his voice didn't show the emotion that he intended.

"I thought you should know that the fire was an electrical thing. And I heard about what happened to Mark." Benny informed, stepping into the room. "And I came to see how he's doing. Where is he?"

Collins glanced over at the empty hospital bed. "He's upstairs getting some tests done."

Benny sighed. This actually made it easier to do exactly what his investors had requested. Mark was the one that he had real ties with, it would be harder for him to do what he was planning on if the young filmmaker was there. "I'll be taking care of all of his bills from this." He informed quietly. "If he needs anything, my investors and myself will be making sure that he gets it."

Roger just accepted this with ease. He knew that would be part of Benny's visit, because this was what Benny did. He would be an ass, and then when something happened he would show up and play the money card, covering any bills he would need to, if only to cover his family's well being from any trouble.

Collins on the other hand, was better at reading people. He could tell that Benny had more to say than to just offer his money to cover the bills. "And how are your investors going to handle the problem of all the people who don't have a place to stay?"

"Well…I hate to do this to you guys. But we aren't going to be handling that. You're on your own." It wasn't hard for him to pick up on the sudden tension in the room. And he knew he should just leave. "I'll make sure that Mark is covered." And then he left.

Collins and Roger looked at each other, not knowing what to say at the news that Roger and Mark officially had nothing to their names.

That's that. I will try and have more this weekend, but I have to focus on an English project and learning my lines for the Wizard of Oz. I will post as soon as I have more.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.

Author's notes: Well here we go off on the roller coaster of recovery for Mark. Thank you all reviewers.

As for the issue of the title. I've decided to leave it as is, and have come up with a few more things that make the title work.

Also, I'd like to note that this isn't going to be an epic chapter fic. It will probably be one or two more chapters after this one. It's just not a plot that I can draw out that well.

And to clear things up…Mimi is dead. I believe I mentioned this in the last chapter in the little intro.

_Italics are the intro thing. Except in this chapter, it's more than an intro. It's a good chunk of the chapter._

_December 31st, 10:00 AM, Eastern Standard Time. Fade in on Mark's hospital room, where the filmmaker has just been dressed in some clothes from the local Goodwill. He wears a new pair of glasses and sits in a wheelchair, waiting for his last clear from the doctor before he is discharged for a nice, quiet New Years Eve._

_Roger sits next to him, and they talk quietly. Roger rarely leaves Mark's side since the fire. Once Mark had been moved out of the ICU he had to abide by visiting hours, but somehow he always manages to be there at the important times, when Mark learns that he will never recover full use of his right leg and other times like that._

_Cut to Maureen and Joanne's apartment, where they are preparing it for a small welcoming party. They have offered their home as a place to stay for Mark and Roger to get back on their feet. Joanne had wanted to sue Benny and his in-laws. They were responsible for not repairing the faulty electrical wiring that caused the fire, and that lawsuit was in the works, but Mark and Roger were not a part of it._

_They will just be staying here until they could get a new place and find a way to pay for it. Something that they are now hoping will become a better strong suit.

* * *

_

_January 20th 4:00 PM Eastern Standard Time. It has been three weeks since Mark and Roger moved in with Joanne. Three weeks during which time important changes have occurred for almost everyone._

_Zoom in on Joanne, who has received a promotion at her law firm, for bringing in such a huge lawsuit in regards with the Landlords from Westport. She is now only a few cases away from becoming partner. Pan right to Maureen, who has just landed the lead in a new play that would be shown far off Broadway. But this doesn't matter to her. It is more important that she will be the focus of something that won't cause people to get arrested…hopefully. _

_Pan to Roger, who is getting ready for a forced night out with Collins. Roger spends his time doing one of two things. He is either working his new job as a bartender, or with Mark. Whether he is taking care of him, or just talking to him it doesn't make a difference. If he's not working, Roger is with Mark. Something about the fire sparked something inside of the musician, and he now sees it has his responsibility to make sure that the recovering film maker is as comfortable and alright as possible. This sort of behavior has left him with little sleep, due to Mark's general bouts of insomnia. Roger ignores Mark's insistences that he go to bed anyways, giving him a general exhausted air, though he's not tired. Thus, Collins is taking him out._

_Pan back to the couch, where Mark lies on his side, a position that has been most comfortable for him as of late. He is the one that nothing has happened for. He's almost out of using the wheelchair; the doctors say they have almost rehabilitated his leg to the best of their abilities and then he'll be able to get around using a cane. He hasn't been able to go out and find a job to contribute to the new apartment fund like Roger has. The majority of his time has been spent, sitting on the same couch, and thinking, possibly writing down ideas, but always avoiding thoughts that led to thinking about what had happened._

_Fade to black._

Collins held up a stumbling Roger beneath him as they walked up the steps into his apartment. This was not part of the night out plan. He had brought Roger out because Roger hadn't been having any fun lately. He had brought Roger out because Roger deserved to have fun, having taken over Mark's role as the responsible one in the relationship while Mark was unable to be it. He had brought Roger out because Mark had been the only one Roger had been hanging out with lately. He didn't think that simply because he brought Roger to a bar that Roger would get drunk. He was most certainly mistaken by that point.

So when they finally decided to leave the bar, Collins made the decision that bringing the less than sober musician home back to Maureen and Joanne's was a recipe for disaster, and decided to bring him back to his place to sleep it off. Technically it was only his place for the rest of the month, when he would be leaving for another teaching job, but this was all beside the point.

"Collins, I've realized something." Roger started speaking when he was brought into the apartment, getting out of Collins' grip and going to the couch on his own without direction. "Mark."

He left it at that, which left Collins confused. Roger normally wasn't a talker when he was drunk, but when he did, it was usually something that he didn't want to talk about when he was sober. When he brought up Mark it got Collins thinking, but he couldn't think of why Roger would bring him up. He closed the door behind himself, and walked over, tossing his keys in a dish as he went over to Roger. "What about Mark?" Just asking a simple question was the key in dealing with Roger like this. A simple question could open the floodgates of emotion…normally.

He flopped so he was lying on the couch staring up at the ceiling, the hair that was getting too long falling off of his face. "He's amazing, the way he deals with everything. I couldn't do it."

Collins didn't say anything, knowing that more was coming. It was clear to him that Roger was referring to the way that the fire had left Mark with problems of his own to deal with, when he was already dealing with everyone else's.

"My Marky…he's just fucking amazing."

His Marky…that was a new one. Collin's was starting to get a bit suspicious about where this talk was going.

"Love my Marky." Roger paused for himself, not for nearly as long a time. "He's the one. I know it."

And his just confirmed everything for Collins. What he had been thinking about Roger…He had had his thoughts about the way Roger was treating Mark; the way he was so gentle with the filmmaker and always taking care of him.

"I love my Marky."

Collins watched as his friend's eyes closed in a manner of sleeping, and resigned himself to getting some blankets for him, starting to contemplate the new developments in their lives.

* * *

"Good morning." Collins had a little smile on his face as Roger entered the kitchen his hair jetting out in a few different directions, a stubble gracing his chin. "I trust you want this." He held out the glass off water and two aspirin.

Roger swallowed the aspirin and then sent his friend a look. "Why did you let me drink so much?"

"You needed to let go." Collins shrugged. "I figured you wouldn't mind to much." He paused. "Was I wrong?"

Roger sighed not answering, sitting in the chair at the table, discarding the water, and grabbing the pot of coffee Collins had out. He could remember what he said last night, and was hoping that the only reason Collins was so cheery was because he had been up for far longer and he had already gotten over the brunt of his hangover. He was hoping this was the case just so Collins wouldn't remember what he had said. But he knew this wasn't the case.

"So do you want to talk about last night or would you rather skillfully avoid the subject until you find your own way to deal with it?" Collins smiled once more, sipping his own coffee, knowing what Roger would want to do.

"Oh fuck off."

And instead of drunk sensitive Roger, we were back with normal Roger who didn't talk about his feelings. "I'm just saying that---."

"I know what you're saying." Roger cut him off. "You're saying that my way of dealing with things sucks because I ignore things until it's too late."

"Well I wasn't going to put it quite like that…" Collins trailed away from his sentence at the strange turn of events where Roger could talk about himself like that. "But basically yes."

Roger downed half the mug of his lukewarm coffee. "Well I've dealt with it." He announced. "I've dealt with realizing that I'm in love with my best friend."

"But…" Collins supplied, just knowing it was coming.

"But I'm not telling him until we have our own place. Not until we can get our shit back to normal."

"Your shit is never gonna go back to the way you want it to be." He didn't want to point it out, but it was true. From this point in there was really only one way to go and that was downhill.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you want things to go back to being perfect like they were before April."

"That's not me that's Mark." Roger tried to argue without accentuating the headache that was still bothering him.

Collins just shook his head. "It's you too. You want things to be perfect, and things are never going to be perfect. You're never going to tell him."

"Oh fuck off."

Well, at least Roger was acting normal again, Collins mused. That was one step closer to him telling Mark.

OK there's that. I think everything is clear enough but if you have any questions, ask in a review.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.

Author's notes: Thank you all reviewers, you seriously make my week a whole lot better.

Sorry this chapter is kind of short and weird. I had major writer's block. The next chapter, which is also unfortunately the last one, will be better.

_Italics are the intro thingy._

_January 30th 9:00 PM Eastern Standard Time. We are now viewing Mark and Roger's new apartment. It has walls that are have various stages of peeling paint, and wall paper, and places where the wall isn't even completely wall. It has bare open rafter ceilings that made all sound echo horribly. It has paper thin walls between the rooms. All in all it is just as shitty, if not more so, than the loft that had burned to the ground._

_Roger is at his job, but will be home soon having worked an early shift at the bar. He had taken to the afternoon shifts when they had moved. It was easier for everyone. Mark was getting more self sufficient. He has his cane, and if he is careful he can go around. It makes him tired, and he still doesn't like to move much as it is semi-painful and completely tiring. Roger likes to be here when Mark is moving around, so he can watch and help him. Mark tends to move more at night, when he finally gets restless from laying on the couch all day._

_Mark got restless early tonight and then he got hungry so he chose to get up knowing that they should still have some food left over from Collins' goodbye feast. Somehow, in the midst of getting food, he has fallen onto the floor, and is now waiting there. _

"Mark, where are you?" Roger called out, closing the door to the apartment, tossing his keys, jacket, and a package onto the carton they had placed by the door for such purposes. Glancing around the semi-lit, semi-heated apartment he couldn't see his roommate anywhere. "Mark?"

"I'm…uh…in the kitchen." Mark's voice called out in a strained tone. "I've uh…fallen and I can't exactly…get up."

Roger laughed a little. They had made a few jokes like this when the doctor had mentioned getting an alert system for when Mark was alone. It was one of the few things that had been truly lighthearted lately. "Ha ha." He started further into the apartment to their kitchen.

"No, actually, I'm serious." Mark's voice got progressively louder, even slightly stronger as Roger got closer.

"Shit." This came out when Roger got to where he could see behind the table. To where he could see his friend lying on the ground, next to an overturned bowl, where there was a puddle of milk, and scattered pieces of cereal surrounding the floor. He quickly, knelt down in concern, not noticing how his knee, exposed from the hole in his jeans was now placed in the milk. "What the hell happened?"

Mark rolled his eyes a little. Not that the situation was in any way funny, but he had been lying on the floor in the same position for the past hour and a half, staring at the ceiling, and contemplating how he had gotten there. He had processed the concept and moved on. He thought it would have been sort of obvious to Roger what had happened. "I slipped, fell, and couldn't get back up." His eyes met Roger's. "I thought we had established that."

Roger started helping the filmmaker up, ignoring the sarcasm. "Are you all right?" He leaned over, still supporting Mark, to grab the cane that had been sent over to the other end of the table out of Mark's reach, before handing it over, and bringing the two into a standing position slowly.

"Nothing's damaged that wasn't already."

The musician wanted to say something, about the attitude that somehow reminded him of his own…an attitude from the past. It was an attitude that wasn't angry or bitter, just bordered on the two emotions. It was an attitude that wasn't Mark. Roger wanted to say something, as he watched Mark refuse his help any further and make his way to a seat at the table, but for some reason he couldn't.

So he just said something that he knew he'd be able to get away with given his recent caregiver role…something that wouldn't make Mark retract into the shell he had developed. "Tell them about it at your PT tomorrow. Just to be safe..." He trailed off as he bent back down, picking up the fallen bowl and tossing it into their sink. Roger didn't bother to clean the cereal or milk; he'd get to that later.

The two stayed in the kitchen in a silence. Every time something like this happened, where Mark needed help, things would get awkward. They both hated it, but it happened.

Roger knew it shouldn't be, because he was the only one that Mark would let help him in the first place. It didn't make sense to him, yet it still occurred.

Mark stood. They had been watching each other in the silence, but he ended the notion quickly, as though something more important had come up. He turned to the living room, his cane in hand, and started to hobble there.

"Where are you going?" Roger asked starting to follow.

"I have something for you." Mark answered, continuing the journey around to the other end of the couch.

It was a slow walk for Mark, but Roger, who could still move quickly, saw the case on the floor before Mark even had a chance to try and pick it up. "Where did you get that?" He asked in a dumfounded manner.

Mark turned, a small, sort of childlike smile on his face. "I managed to convince Maureen that she owed me and I had her go out and get it."

"How did you pay for it?" Roger continued his line of questioning, not believing what was in front of him.

The childlike smile turned into a much more mischievous smirk. "I told Benny that the doctor prescribed me some painkillers, and he gave me the money in an attempt at preventing an even bigger lawsuit."

Roger laughed a little at Mark's methods as he knelt down in front of the case, and opened it.

"It's used, and the strings aren't gonna last much longer but…"

"It's great." Roger cut Mark off, letting his fingers glide down the neck of the acoustic guitar that was in front of him. "You shouldn't have..."

"Shhh." Mark cut him off in the same manner. "You're gonna ruin the moment if you keep talking like that." His smile transformed once more, into that of someone who had just made someone else happy, with no thought of themselves. His moods had been a bit of a roller coaster ever since the fire. Not that he would admit it.

Roger just looked over the guitar for a moment more, holding it in his hands, and feeling its weight, but he suddenly placed it back in the case and stood. "I almost forgot…" He trailed off and held up a hand. "Stay here." He turned and hurried back to the door, where he picked up the box he had put there earlier, and brought it over to Mark, placing it in the hand that wasn't holding the head of the cane. "Open it."

He watched in an eager anticipation, as Mark made his way to the couch where he could sit and open the box in his hands. "Where did you get this?" Mark asked.

"A very hard to find store." Roger shook his head a little.

"How did you pay for it?"

Roger gave him a look. "I have a job, remember?"

Mark held the camera, that was almost an exact replica of the one he had once owned. "Thank you." Roger didn't have to respond, he knew, so he didn't. The camera already had a reel of film in it, so Mark started turning it on, winding it, in actions that were second nature to him. "January 30 9: 25 PM Eastern Standard Time. Roger has just…"

"Shhh." Roger cut the narration off. "You're gonna ruin the moment if you keep talking like that."

Mark just laughed a little, and stopped, not really caring that Roger was interfering with his style of film. He was more content to be filming for the first time in a month.

Roger watched for a moment, seeing Mark as truly happy. He couldn't help but think back to his conversation with Collins. This was close enough to be being what he had wanted. "Mark I love you." The second the words were out of his mouth Mark's camera lowered, and he could tell that he had shocked his roommate. He couldn't really say much else. He wanted to elaborate, but he couldn't.

"You…love me." Mark placed the camera down repeating Roger's words. Then he was silent.

"Mark say something." Roger broke the quiet after a minute or two.

But Mark didn't say anything. He did however stand and make his way over to the musician that hadn't moved, balancing as he grabbed Roger's shirt collar pulling him down and putting his lips against his own. He broke the kiss for the briefest of moments. "I love you too." And then he brought him back down, joining their lips once more.

Next chapter will be better, I promise.

Oh, and…since I was having such horrible writer's block, I got help from my friend, closetdramafreak, who came up with the whole, "Fallen and I can't get up bit." Thanks Lion.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: RENT and its characters do not belong to me.

Author's notes: Ahh, well the last chapter has arrived. I hope it doesn't disappoint.

_Italics are the intro thingy._

_February 17th 9:00 PM Eastern Standard Time. First shot Mark, who's sitting on the couch, still wearing the tacky red polyester vest from his job at the video rental store. The job which he hates, but is working anyways, if nothing else but to keep busy during the day. He knows that he should take the vest off before Roger gets home, because wearing the vest always provokes a sort of laughing and mockery from his boyfriend. He knows that he should take it off, but he doesn't. He's too busy, using his camera to film a candle in front of him._

The flame was dancing, along the candle's wick, it's orangey glow reflecting off of the lens of the camera, as well as Mark's glasses. It was a mesmerizing thing, to watch the fire through his camera. It was something that he had done since he had gotten his new-used camera. He probably had a few hours of just the lit candle on his limited reels of film. Filming the flame was now common for Mark, he had just never been caught doing it before.

"Nice vest." It was the pathetic jest that came from behind him that made Mark notice that Roger had entered the apartment. It just didn't cause him to put down the camera, turn, or even respond. Roger didn't take off his coat, due to the chill in the apartment. "Why are you filming a candle?" This did confuse him a little, Mark had filmed some abstract things, but he had never focused so much on an inanimate object.

The camera wasn't lowered. "It's for my new film. I'm calling it Conflagration."

"What the fuck is a Conflag---whatever?" Roger did a double take stepping around to the other side of the couch.

"A large destructive fire."

It suddenly started to hit Roger what this was about. He wasn't a complete moron…all of the time. "And the candle is…?"

Mark still didn't look away, like he didn't realize how weird it was for him to just be staring. "It's the opposite side of fire. The way it can be delicate and beautiful."

"OK then." Roger muttered under his breath before leaning down and blowing out the candle, leaving them in a room much closer to darkness.

Now the camera went down and Mark sent an annoyed look over to Roger. "I wasn't done."

Roger put a hand on the hand that was still holding the camera. "It can wait." He paused thinking how to approach the situation. He was still getting used to the whole sensitive boyfriend thing that he had only had to do once before with Mimi. April had never required such a thing. "So what brought this on?"

"I don't know." Mark just shook his head a little. "I was just thinking…about fire, and how sometimes it can just be really beautiful, and it can provide heat and save you, and then other times it can completely ruin your life." He paused, not really noticing the information he had just provided. "I thought I could get some good visualizations out of it. It's really fascinating to watch."

"Have you always liked fire this much?"

"It kinda came on after Christmas." Mark shrugged. When he had said it to himself it hadn't seemed like a big deal. Suddenly saying to Roger made it seem a lot more…freakish. "It's been sort of mesmerizing since then."

Roger snorted a little, laughing. "Pyro." This of course put the two into a silence, but neither really knew how to break. Roger most certainly wasn't going to be the one to break it. Confessions really were Mark's thing.

"I guess I kind of am." Mark shrugged. "Watching it though…it somehow reminds me what things were before the fire." Roger could see how that worked…sort of. Certain things would remind him of that. "You know…with Benny bothering us about the rent."

"You reminding me to take my meds." Roger smiled, starting to reminisce. "And filming it."

"You playing your guitar on the kitchen table. The same three songs. Over and over."

"Collins showing up on all major holidays with Stoli and cereal." For some reason this sent them both into laughter. It seemed to them that thinking about what had happened in the past got them through the present.

As the laughter died, Mark spoke in a disjointed and disappointed manner. "Things aren't gonna be like that again are they?"

Roger sighed. Again with the heartfelt moments. "Probably not. Life changes."

"It's OK though right?" For the first time in the conversation Mark's eyes truly met with Roger's. "I mean **we** wouldn't have happened if the fire didn't happen."

"I'd say it's more than OK." Roger leaned his head forward, putting his forehead against Mark. "Life changes."

"Life changes." Mark repeated quietly, right before the door opened.

"You know it really isn't that safe for you to leave that door unlocked." The new occupant announced. "Oh for the days when I had to ask for to throw down a key." Mark and Roger turned around, to see Collins standing in the entryway of the apartment, his arms laden with two large paper bags. "I thought you two could use some food and a visit from your friendly neighborhood Professor." The laughter exploded from the two once more, and they turned, collapsing onto each other. "Did I miss something?"

Mark was the first to calm the laughter. "Maybe life doesn't change that much."

Fin

OK, I have to say, that this is the least happy I have been with a story in a long time. I really don't like it, and I had a lot of problems writing it. I think the beginning is a lot stronger than the end, because even by the third chapter this was a story that was just bugging me to be written, not one that I was excited about writing.

Please give me your own feedback.

My next story will be up soon, and I promise that it will be better than this.


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